


the spice and times of percy jackson

by croiagusanam



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, God!Percy, Hurt/Comfort, Percy Keeps the Curse of Achilles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/croiagusanam/pseuds/croiagusanam
Summary: He stirs the hot chocolate, thinking. He can't tell her. Can't tell her how he likes the burn, just a bit. Likes the pain, just a bit. It takes away from the joy of it, true, but it's the little things that ground him. Reminds him that despite his power, despite his unbreakable skin and the fact that he can feel the potential of immortality pulling at him in the moments between sleep and being awake, despite his emphatic no to Zeus. Some days he wishes he could bleed, just to see that it was red, not gold. She knows all that probably. Or at least, that's how he justifies not telling her.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 164





	the spice and times of percy jackson

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks [liz](https://nerdylizj.tumblr.com/) and [lydia](https://waltstone.tumblr.com//) for giving this a beta read <3
> 
> I play pretty fast and loose with the Curse of Achilles rules here

Sometimes, Percy likes to categorise himself the way a historian attempting to personalise the two-time hero of Olympus would: with fun and seemingly meaningless facts. Fact one - Percy had never really experienced spicy food growing up. It was less of an active dislike, and more of a lack of opportunity to develop a taste. He'd spent half of his childhood in boarding schools which had _decent_ food at best, and tasted of nothing at worst. The other half he'd spent at home, where his meals were also eaten by a man who considered garlic to be almost too spicy to eat. By the time that Sally was free to cook what she liked, the spice boat had sailed for him. Percy was a mild curry kind of guy, please and thank you. 

Fact two - when he'd jumped in the Styx, he hadn't much considered how it would affect the little things in his life. Immunity to pain was nice, but it really stung to zone back in and realise he'd chewed damn near his entire nail off. He'd resigned himself to a lifetime of shitty self administered haircuts after Sally had broken a pair of scissors in his hair. He considered himself lucky that Annabeth had pulled just a little too hard during a particularly intense make out session and had taken some strands out. Turns out being a mortal tether also resigned you to being an eternal barber. Percy was lucky Annabeth saw styling him as a challenge, rather than a burden. He didn't notice the effect it had on food however, until one Friday evening when he'd received a frantic call from his pizza place telling him he'd received the wrong order. Sure, it has a little more kick than he'd like, but he'd seen his mom after more than enough shifts to know the guys behind the counter had enough shit to deal with to complain. No, they had replied, that pizza is part of a challenge and stammered about 10 times hotter than a jalapeño. No worries, he said and joked about getting free milk the next time.

The thing about never feeling pain is that you begin to feel as though you've wrapped yourself in bubble wrap. You can never quite interact with anything around you, even the things that don’t hurt. It added to the looks and whispers that floated around him at camp, to the 'unprecedented combination of storm surge and tremors' that struck Manhattan one night after a particularly bad nightmare and to all the little things that filled the 'you're not quite human anymore' box in his head. So if he could order a 'Spicy Death Pizza' and feel mortal for a bit at the expense of a tear streaked face and a screaming tongue? That was a worthy trade.

Fact three? Percy never did anything by halves. Sure, it starts small - a bottle of hot sauce in his back pocket, surreptitiously poured over his brisket at camp. One of the perks of eating alone is there's nobody to question a sudden change in eating habits. At home, a raised eyebrow is all he gets from Sally when he tells her there's no need to make a milder portion for him. There's a question there, but she doesn't voice it. Still on eggshells, getting accustomed to having a son again, or inwardly kicking herself for missing yet another development in his life. The desire for that burn escapes dinner to invade lunch, and begins to set its sights on breakfast. It suits the eggs, but it's somewhat of a struggle with cereal. He'll accept the loss of a good bowl of Froot Loops for the rush of an aching tongue.

It spreads from meals, too. He arrives early to his regular coffee date with Annabeth, during the winter of their senior year and notices that chilli hot chocolate is on the menu. Ten minutes later she arrives to him nursing his second mug. She takes a sip from it and winces. "Ugh, I can't believe you've started drinking this crap! Everyone knows that chocolate is meant to be sweet, not spicy."

He stirs the hot chocolate, thinking. He can't tell her. Can't tell her how he likes the burn, just a bit. Likes the pain, just a bit. It takes away from the joy of it, true, but it's the little things that ground him. Reminds him that despite his power, despite his unbreakable skin and the fact that he can feel the potential of immortality pulling at him in the moments between sleep and being awake, despite his emphatic no to Zeus. Some days he wishes he could bleed, just to see that it was red, not gold. She knows all that probably. Or at least, that's how he justifies not telling her.

"I like the contrast," he says, and it's not entirely a lie. She begins to talk about her day, and for a short time he's able to forget that he has three jars of chocolate powder hidden in his bag.

They don’t talk about it when Annabeth moves in for the summer before college. Percy and Sally do most of the cooking, and it’s simple enough for him to split off Annabeth’s portion early. She watches, and says nothing while filing that information away for later. Part of him wishes she’d ask, the rest of him is glad she doesn’t, because he’s sure one of them would run as far away as they could.

In the end, he’s the one who breaks the silence. He was entering the dining pavilion at camp, arm around her as they joked about how he had somehow missed the anvil the Stolls had rigged to drop on him as he gave the new campers their orientation. His laughs turned to sobs as a stab of pain shot through the small of his back, threatening to tear him apart. He falls to his knees. So this is real pain, he thinks. He’d been playing at it before. It doesn’t spread from the small of his back. His mortality burns and he can almost feel Achilles laughing at him. “ _You’ve forgotten, what real pain feels like, boy. You were playing at it before, in the way that only an immortal who can’t feel it can”_

Later, when he wakes up clutching Annabeth’s hand in the infirmary, she explains. “One of the new kids burned an offering. He didn’t know who his godly parent was so he just…”

“He picked the only godly figure he’s seen or heard about.” He lies back and closes his eyes, thinking about the child who saw his divinity instead of his mortality while he vaguely hears Annabeth talk about how he’d begun to glow while he screamed. The ‘like a god’ part goes unsaid. He’d bet all he had that the small of his back hadn’t begun to glow.

He leaves camp to dive beneath the waves, and doesn't return for a month. When he gets back, there isn't an anvil in sight. He's grateful, but it mostly serves as a reminder of the separation he feels. The tales they tell about war history change too. Stories of 'Percy Jackson, who defeated a titan lord' are replaced with 'the brave demigods who defended Olympus.' He's no longer a general, instead one of many players. He prefers it that way, though he wishes they would go a step further. There's no reason his successes should be remembered over those that sacrificed everything. After the month away, he moves out and into a tiny apartment with Annabeth. If it happens again, he wants to be as far away from the people he can’t handle hurting with a breakdown. He’d leave Annabeth behind if he could, but she flat out refuses. 

“This can’t hurt me,” she says, “I’m your mortal tether.” He wants to argue that he almost burned away his mortal point, but in the end he doesn’t bother. He’s never been invulnerable to her.

Percy spends the first day terrified, the first week fearful and the first month wary. He’d skip sleep if he could do that without burning, just to ensure he never puts her in danger. After that first month passes, he allows himself to let the reins go slack just a bit. He remembers the understanding they had after they had escaped Tartarus and that he had lost along the way. This time, he swears to never let go of it.

Fact four - having someone by your side who understands you helps when you feel disconnected. Funny how that works. When he has a nightmare she wakes him and talks him through while the storm dies out in the bay. She finds him zoned out and with a simple touch of the back that broke the veil of nothingness. Every time she brings him back, he stays just a bit longer before fading again. One day, he discovers the spiced chocolate powder in the back of the press, and realises he hasn’t used it, or anything like it in months. Maybe he’s not quite mortal, but he doesn’t need to burn to remember the good parts of being human. Love as it turns out, is a grounding touch.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment if you enjoyed and [follow me on tumblr!](https://thatirishmichael.tumblr.com/)


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